367th Annual Gotei 13 Potluck
by Behold the Void
Summary: It's time for the annual Gotei 13 potluck again. Time to see what horrors of cooking the assorted captains, vice captains, and Ichigo and company will inflict upon each other. Spoilers for the Soul Society arc contained herein.
1. Substitute Shinigami and Honored Guest

Author's Notes: This story came about through discussions with a friend of mine. As I understand it, a lot of the ideas she presented that I thought were too good not to use and play with are not from her, but from another source I am unaware of. I apologize for using them, although I am definitely putting my own spin on all of it so it should hopefully be more or less unrecognizable beyond inspirational purposes. Most of what you see in here aside from the concept and a scant few of the jokes is my own material.

This contains spoilers up to chapter 201 of the Japanese manga release. It's not a terrible spoiler, but it should be mentioned as it involves Rukia's zanpakutou. Most of the other spoilers are from the Soul Society arc, which the American manga well into but not far enough. Read at your own peril.

Also, I'm trying to get the line breaks to work, but seems to like to screw the formatting. So apologies if they don't.

Finally, there shall be a few creative liberties taken for purposes of humor. It is a fanfiction after all.

Still there? Then let us begin.

Chapter 1: Substitute Shinigami and Honored Guest; Is that an oven or a flamethrower?

"I'm home," Kurosaki Ichigo, fifteen-year old, orange-haired substitute shinigami said as he walked into his house and removed his shoes.

"You're late!" a bombastic voice shouted as a large foot came out of nowhere and collided with Ichigo's face. Ichigo was thrown backwards into an awkward, spine-twisting position.

Rolling back, he sprung to his feet.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!?" he shouted.

"I TOLD YOU TO BE HOME BY SIX!" Kurosaki Isshin, Ichigo's clinically deranged doctor of a father shouted.

"WHAT KIND OF FATHER DEMANDS THEIR FIFTEEN-YEAR OLD SON BE HOME BY SIX!?" Ichigo demanded, bringing his face right up to Isshin's and shouting into it.

"THE KIND OF FATHER WHO IS TAKING HIS LITTLE GIRLS TO THE BALL GAME!" Isshin shouted. "Now then, you stay and watch the clinic. We'll be out for several hours, don't screw up anything.

Ichigo grunted and stalked up to his room, shutting the door behind him. He was a bit sullen about not getting to go, but he wasn't about to say anything.

"ICHIIGOOOO!" Kon screamed as he leapt at Ichigo.

"You're annoying!" Ichigo said with a scowl as he smacked Kon across the room. Kon smashed into Ichigo's closet door, before falling to the ground with a subdued squeak.

"Onee-san!" he said with a whining sob. "Where are you? Please, come save me from this abuse!"

"Shut it, Kon!" Ichigo half-yelled from his bed.

As Ichigo lay on his bed, considering beating the stuffing out Kon who had fallen to subdued but still clearly audible grumblings, a flash of black caught his eye.

Ichigo's eyes widened as a black butterfly floated lazily into his vision. In the next instant he felt a definitive weight on his chest as a familiar crown of black hair and penetrating blue eyes.

"Yo, Rukia," Ichigo said, staring back at her.

"Onee-san!" Kon suddenly screamed, leaping at her.

Rukia lightly jumped off Ichigo's chest, unleashing a spinning kick to Kon that knocked him back into the closet as she did.

"What are you doing here?" Ichigo asked as he sat up on his bed and stretched.

"I have something for you," Rukia replied, removing a small parchment of paper from her shihakusho.

Ichigo took it and scanned it.

_To Kurosaki Ichigo, substitute shinigami,_

_Greetings! You and your associates are cordially invited to attend the 367th annual Gotei 13 potluck as thanks for your invaluable services against the traitor, Aizen. The potluck will begin at 10:00 PM this very day, and all guests are required to bring their own dish, prepared by their own hand. Please present yourself at the Urahara's store at precisely 9:30 PM so that you can pass through the gate and into the Seireitei. We hope you can attend._

_Ukitake Jyuushiro, 13th Division Captain_

Ichigo glanced over at the clock. It was already 6:30. That gave him about three hours to work with, depending on how long it took him to get to Urahara's. He turned and looked at Rukia, who had managed to smash Kon underfoot to keep him from leaping joyously through the air.

"Gotei 13 potluck?" he said skeptically.

"It's really quite an honor. Normally, only captains and vice-captains are permitted to attend, but we were given a special invitation for services rendered, or, in my case and Hanataro's case, as an apology."

"Wait, Hanataro's coming too?" Ichigo asked, a bit incredulously.

"Well, yes, it was under the condition that he prepare something himself and represent the fifth division. With Aizen gone and Vice-Captain Hinamori Momo still in a coma, they needed someone to bring something remotely edible," Rukia replied matter-of-factly.

"Well, that makes… wait a minute. Edible? Is that not standard?" Ichigo asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Ichigo," Rukia said, rolling her eyes. "You've seen the captains. What do you think?"

"Right. Crap. Well, we better get started on something then, huh?"

"That'd be a good idea. I'm here to help you with your dish so that you don't accidentally burn your house down," Rukia said. "Plus it keeps me from having to bring my own. Although I could probably leech off what Renji and Nii-sama are making."

"Remind me not to touch that one," Ichigo said. "Anyway, let's get started."

Ichigo and Rukia walked down into the kitchen, Kon close on their heels. Knowing better than to say anything, he jumped up onto the counter to watch as Ichigo and Rukia began raiding the fridge.

"So what are we making anyway?" Ichigo asked.

"I don't know. Aren't you the one who lives here? What do you have?" Rukia shot back.

"Yuzu does the cooking. Let's see… rice… fish… meat… milk… flour… some beef…" Ichigo continued to rummage through just about any receptacle of food he could get his hands on.

"Ooh! Let's make Shabu Shabu!" Rukia said.

"Shabu Shabu?" Ichigo asked, dubiously.

"Yeah, it's really easy to cook, you just slice the beef into really thin slices and let it go.

"That's it?" Ichigo asked.

"I think so," Rukia said. "Anyway, come on, let's get to cutting."

Ichigo grabbed Kon and rammed his hand into Kon's mouth, overriding his protests. Removing the green pill, he swallowed it, his shinigami form bursting forth from his body.

"Kon, go hang out in my room or go to the store or something," Ichigo said dismissively.

Kon looked like he was about to say something but apparently thought better of it when he realized that he was free and in a human body. Running to the closet, he grabbed Ichigo's jacket and was out the door.

"Now then," Ichigo said as he grabbed Zangetsu and drew it forth, the bandages coiling around it and residing. "Let's chop some meat."

Rukia drew her own zanpakutou. "Let's go!"

After twenty minutes of assaulting an innocent side of beef with their zanpakutou, it was finally sliced into (relatively) thin pieces.

Ichigo clumsily dumped them onto a tray, making a mess from the blood and juices that were spilling all over the counter.

"I'll clean that up," Rukia said. "Put the tray into the oven."

Ichigo obliged, closing the door and going up to the dial.

"How long should I cook it and at what temperature?" he asked.

"Well, we want to finish it as fast as we can, so put it on the highest setting possible. I think it takes about twenty minutes or something," Rukia said as she swabbed the counter. "We can check on it periodically."

Ichigo shrugged and turned the oven up to 300 degrees Celsius.

"Anyway, that was a lot of work. Let's go grab some of those wonderful drinks in the boxes! It should be done by the time we get home!" Rukia said enthusiastically.

"Sure," Ichigo said, as they both moved through the door, obviously not considering the fact that they couldn't purchase anything effectively in spirit form.

_Shortly thereafter_

After spending several minutes trying to figure out how, exactly, they were going to purchase drinks from a vendor who couldn't see them, Ichigo managed to find enough change to get one of the drinks out of a vending machine. As they approached the house, they noticed something odd.

"Is that a cloud of black smoke I see coming out of the kitchen window?" Rukia asked curiously.

Ichigo swore violently as he rushed into the house.

"Shit!" he yelled as the billowing black smoke poured from the crack in the oven.

Ichigo opened the oven and a gout of flame burst forward, one he barely managed to dodge.

"RUKIA!" he screamed.

Rukia ran in close on his heels, her zanpakutou drawn.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!" she shouted.

Extending her zanpakutou, it seemed to be momentarily surrounded in a burst of snow. The blade that emerged was pristine white, and a long white ribbon trailed from it.

"Next dance, White Ripple!" she shouted, a wave of ice moving forward and engulfing the flame. The fire hissed as thick white steam replaced the black smoke almost instantly.

Ichigo hurried over to the oven and turned it off.

Waiting for the steam to subside, Ichigo tentatively grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the pan out. Within the pan was the charcoal remains of what was probably the meat they had originally placed in the oven.

"Great, now what?" he asked.

_An hour and a half later_

An enthusiastic Kon walked into the door about twenty minutes after nine, only to be confronted by a rather interesting sight. Ichigo and Rukia, covered head to toe in grains of rice, were standing at a cutting board rolling rice into what could only be described as mutant rice balls. Most were way too large, and the seaweed and umeboshi were barely together.

"Oh great, Kon, perfect timing," Ichigo said. "Come on Rukia, we'll be late if we don't hurry!"

Rukia nodded and gathered up the rice balls, throwing them all into a plastic sack.

"Hey, do us a favor and clean up, would you?" Ichigo said. "Bye!"

He and Rukia dashed out the door, leaving Kon behind. Kon stood there for a moment with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Slowly, he turned to face the kitchen, finally realizing that it was covered in rice and that it smelled of severely burnt meat. Furthermore, the rice-cooker was still plugged in and there was a thick coat of burned rice at the bottom, as well as an oven that appeared to have a good deal of burned substances inside of it.

Kon sighed. "Why me?" he asked plaintively as he set to work.


	2. The Second Honored Guest

A/N: Apologies, this one is a bit more subdued. I thought it might turn out better, but I just wasn't having a lot of ideas as to how to make it work. Hopefully the next chapter will work out more.

Chapter 2: The Second Honored Guest; the strange little flower that bears stranger fruit

"A potluck?" Chestnut-haired and busty Inoue Orihime said to herself as she read over the letter that had arrived at her door just moments before. "It sounds like fun!"

With an added spring to her step that belied her excitement, Orihime sashayed towards the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and peering inside.

"Hmmm…" she said as she surveyed the food. "No, I shouldn't use what I already have. This is a big event. I should bring only the best!"

Humming happily to herself, Orihime gathered her jacket, bag and purse and was out the door and skipping to the grocery store.

Arriving there, she immediately set to work, an idea already forming in her head. This was going to be the greatest manifestation of her culinary ability to date, and it had to be perfect. A bag of chocolate chips, some red bean paste, a leek, some rice, already this was shaping up to be a fantastic dish.

"Orihime!"

Orihime turned and found herself face-to-face with black-haired and thin Arisawa Tatsuki, her oldest and best friend.

"What are you doing here, Orihime?" Tatsuki asked, eyeing her shopping cart with a dubious expression on her face.

"I'm… uh… buying food for dinner!" Orihime said brightly, only briefly stumbling over her words as she tried to think of something to say that didn't involve "shinigami potluck."

"Orihime, you should come over to our house every once in awhile," Tatsuki said. "My mom's happy to make more for you. Don't you get lonely?"

"I'm fine," Orihime said brightly. "I like cooking for myself."

Tatsuki gave Orihime a strange look, as if trying to see if she was lying. Finally, she shrugged and patted Orihime on the head.

"Well, OK, but you know you're welcome whenever you want to come over," she said.

"I know," Orihime said, smiling brightly.

"Well, I gotta get back to shopping myself," Tatsuki said. "I'll see you later!"

"Bye!" Orihime yelled after her retreating form, waving.

After Tatsuki had disappeared around an aisle, Orihime shook her head to focus. "All right! Need more ingredients!" she said to herself before pushing on down the aisles.

_About forty-five minutes later_

Orihime stood triumphantly over a bag of ingredients as she fired up her oven. In front of her was an array of perhaps the most random mishmash of foods ever seen. Noodles, chocolate chip, leeks, red bean paste, butter, flour, eggs, rice, seaweed, fish, natto, mushrooms and vegemite, all were laid out and under inspection by her "expert" eye.

"With this, I can make my greatest dish ever!" Orihime said excitedly.

Rolling up her sleeves, she went to work, mashing, rolling, pounding, and otherwise haphazardly mixing the ingredients together. Finally, when they had achieved the consistency of some kind of paste-like substance, Orihime practically danced over to the oven, setting it to a good 150 degrees Celsius and setting the timer for half an hour.

With the food safely in the oven, Orihime went to her room to prepare herself for the night. Since this was with the captains of the Gotei 13, she wanted to look her best. Besides, Ichigo would be there. Looking good was not at all a bad thing.


	3. Third and Fourth Honored Guests

A/N: Sorry it's been awhile, I've been busy with school work and other projects.

Chapter 3: Third and Fourth Honored Guests: the Quincy Chef General and his Strong, Silent Kitchen Aid

"Shinigami… potluck?" Ishida Uryuu said, looking incredulously at the note in his hand while pressing his glasses to his face, as if checking to see if they were at fault.

"We should go," Yasutora Sado said, his hugely muscular body standing stock still behind Ishida as he hauled several bags of sewing materials that Ishida had asked him to help carry home.

"Ridiculous," Ishida scoffed. "I am I Quincy. I hate Shinigami."

"I need help cooking my dish," Sado said simply. "I can't seem to make the food I cook look good."

Ishida's fingers seemed to twitch involuntarily.

"Well… er… it'd be a shame if you couldn't… no," he said, shaking his head. "I am not to associate with Shinigami any longer."

"I've an interesting idea," Sado said. "Something I don't think I've ever tried before."

Ishida's fingers seemed to be twitching even more harshly.

"Well," he said, "maybe I can at least help you out. I mean, it'd be pretty ungrateful of me to not help out a comrade at least a little."

Half an hour later

Ishida stood perched on a high chair dressed in an extremely frilly and ornate chef's apron and hat, both of which were adorned with the Quincy cross, tastefully placed along the patterns to create a rather imposing effect.

"Prepare the oven! It needs to be set at exactly 175 degrees Celsius!"

Sado wordlessly obliged, turning the heat up on his oven.

"There's a lot of pre-cooking work that needs to be done. Assemble exactly three cups of flour, twenty-five tortillas, as many spices and herbs as you have in the house, and five pounds of ground beef. We've got a lot of work to do."

Sado began rooting through his small apartment, quickly producing the items Ishida had called for without much fuss.

"OK, good. Get me a mixing bowl, a beater, a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs. Oh, a stick of butter too, while you're at it."

Sado opened his refrigerator and removed the requested ingredients, before opening up his cabinets and removing the supplies. Wordlessly, he handed them to Ishida.

"All right. I think the oven is ready now, go take the meat I purchased out of the refrigerator and put it in. Let's get this show on the road."

An hour later

Sado's kitchen was still immaculately clean as he carefully placed the last of the finished product into the oven. Somehow, throughout the entire long and involved cooking process, Ishida had not only managed to keep the entire kitchen spotless but had also managed to sew them both rather nice outfits with which to wear. Ishida's was a variation on the traditional Quincy garb that looked highly ceremonial, well-suited for something involving the captains of the Seireitei.

Sado's outfit was styled like a nice business suit, and actually looked fairly well, which came as something of a surprise to Sado. Remembering Ishida's former forays into the realm of making men's clothes, the fact that it wasn't basic and not terribly attractive was a bit of a surprise.

"All right," Ishida said, his voice far more excited than Sado had ever heard it before. "The masterpiece is almost ready. We're going to need a large box to carry it in, go fetch that and we can get it out of the oven and be on our way. We must not be late."

Smiling faintly, Sado went to do as he was told. All things considered, getting Ishida to come along had been surprisingly easy.


	4. The Sixth Division

Chapter 4: The Sixth Division: Bright pink death petals and their application in a modern kitchen environment

Kuchiki Byakuya knelt calmly before a large wooden table, surveying the assembled ingredients with an expert and critical eye. Although outwardly calm, perhaps even bored or disdainful, inwardly he was quite pleased. For tonight, five new and utterly unwitting victims were going to be present at the dinner. Byakuya determined that he absolutely must outdo himself this year, if for no other reason than to see Kurosaki Ichigo reaching frantically for the pitcher of water, tastefully adorned with the label "Byakuya's bitch," in a vain attempt to quench the hellfire within his throat that Byakuya's dish would bring.

Byakuya almost smiled. Almost. However, he had work to do.

Assembled before him were some of the finest morsels in all the Soul Society. Choice flanks of beef, tender pork, fresh fruits and vegetables. It was truly an array fit for one of his noble lineage.

Normally, Byakuya would scorn putting this food before the commoners who composed most of the higher ranks of the Seireitei. Especially in the case of Kurosaki Ichigo and his ilk. However, as was often the case, the special seasonings Byakuya had prepared more than made up for it.

Also assembled before Byakuya was an interesting collection of spices. Wasabi, paprika, chili powder, jalapeños, several varieties of peppers, and other concoctions best left unnamed (if indeed they had a name to begin with) all were laid out on the table before Byakuya. Taking mental stock, he nodded once and begun the initial preparations.

Standing, Byakuya slowly drew his zanpakutou. Bringing its blade perpendicular with the ground, he clutched the hilt tightly.

"Scatter, Senbonzakura."

Byakuya's zanpakutou dissolved into pink fragments, which slowly wafted over the meat and floated through the air in intricate patterns.

As the blade reformed, the meat gently fell apart in an intricate spread that seemed to lend itself well to being seasoned.

Re-sheathing his sword and kneeling again, Byakuya grabbed a nearby cord and pulled it.

_Fifteen minutes later_

Abarai Renji almost flew through the door of the room where Byakuya was still sitting. It appeared as if he had not moved at all, and his face was still composed in the same calm and stern expression. However, Renji knew very well that his captain was not pleased.

"Renji," Byakuya said in a low voice that dripped with deadly irritation. "At what time did I summon you?"

"Forgive me, Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji nearly screamed, prostrating himself on the ground before Byakuya. "I was negligent in my duties!"

Byakuya slowly rose and Renji cringed, still bowing so low that he was nearly kissing the floor.

Slowly, Byakuya walked out the door, his captain's haori trailing behind him.

"I need to attend to some business. Season the dish for tonight's dinner."

Renji slowly rose, now extremely confused. "Are you sure, Kuchiki-taichou? You've always been the one to do the seasoning before."

"Do it," Byakuya said. "I do not have the time. Also, be sure to use as much of the spices as you can. I assume such is within even _your_ ability to handle?"

"Yes, Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji said quickly as Byakuya stepped out the door and walked away.

Again, a smile almost graced Byakuya's lips. Having Renji, of all people, season his dish was a stroke of genius so brilliant even for him that he absolutely had to do it.

_One hour later_

Byakuya returned to a scene he had more or less expected. An exhausted Renji was panting in the corner, covered in red powder and other spices. The food itself was even further covered by the spices, in some cases smothered so much as to be completely unrecognizable.

"Thank you, Renji. You may leave."

"Yes, Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji panted as he lumbered out the door.

After he was gone, Byakuya shut the door once again. Now came the hardest part, and he absolutely did not wish to be disturbed. Once again, he drew his sword. Holding it loosely over the ground, he dropped it.

"Bankai," he said calmly.

Two rows of towering sword blades aligned themselves behind Byakuya as he regarded the food with a calm air.

"Scatter, Senbonzakura Kageyoshi."

_One hour later_

Renji again burst into the room, his favorite sunglasses on his head.

"Renji," Byakuya said. "Carry the food."

"Yes, Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji said as he nearly dove at a huge, artfully wrapped box that smelled absolutely mouthwatering.

"We are leaving. Come," Byakuya said as he walked out the door.

"Yes, Kuchiki-taichou!" Renji yelled, following behind closely and staggering slightly under the weight of the dish Byakuya had prepared.


	5. The Eleventh Division

Apologies about the large delay, I had finals and then got sidetracked with converting Bleach to the D20 system. I'll try to update more regularly.

Chapter 5: The Eleventh Division: The Health Benefits of Direct Zanpakutou-to-Cattle Slaughter and their Effects on the Overall Quality of Ground Beef

"Ken-chan!"

A tiny little girl with bright bubblegum-pink hair ran energetically down the halls of the Eleventh Division. Trailing behind her was a sheathed zanpakutou with wheels attached to the sheathe and a long string that allowed her to drag it along the ground.

"KEN-CHAN!"

As she rounded a corner, she found her feet no longer touching the ground as she was lifted off the ground by a sheathed zanpakutou which had suddenly lodged itself in the back of her shihakusho.

"Hey, lieutenant," a tall, extremely bald man asked as he lifted her into the air. "Why are you tearing down the halls so early in the morning?"

He yawned widely. "It's not even noon yet. You should be in bed."

"Hi, Pachinko-Head!" Yachiru said cheerfully. "I'm looking for Ken-chan!"

"I can tell that," Ikkaku said, slowly lowering her to the ground. "Why?"

"The potluck's tonight!"

"Isn't he skipping it like he usually does?" Ikkaku asked, yawning again.

"I found something to bring! Where is he?"

Ikkaku shrugged. "I dunno. I think I saw him sharpening his sword in the dojo. Somethin' about Ichigo coming back tonight."

"Thanks, Pachinko-Head!" Yachiru said happily as she sped off down the hall. Ikkaku just groaned and went back to bed.

_Minutes later_

"Ken-chan!"

Yachiru leapt into the air, pouncing on the imposing 6'7" figure of Zaraki Kenpachi. As she hit his shoulder, his hair swayed slightly, the sound of bells briefly filling the room.

"Yachiru," Kenpachi grunted. "Good timing. I hear Ichigo's coming back for that potluck thing. I need to figure out what to bring."

"I know, I know!" Yachiru said excitedly. "Come on!"

"Are you sure you know where it is?" Kenpachi asked dubiously.

"Ken-chan come ON! This way!" Yachiru said, pointing.

Shrugging, Kenpachi started moving in the direction she indicated.

_An hour later_

Kenpachi and Yachiru sat inside a large restaurant with a red roof and two yellow arches on the sign. The restaurant was tackily decorated, as if it was trying (and failing) to mimic the bohemian coffee-house setting. Yachiru, wearing a black dress with white frills in the Gothic Lolita style, was daintily nibbling on an impressively large burger, her small but swift bites quickly consuming it.

Kenpachi, dressed in leather and spikes, was tearing a large pile of burgers apart with his razor-sharp canines, occasionally snapping his fingers. Each time he did that, a terrified worker in a dark blue hat and shirt would dash out with another pile of burgers, before retreating to the safety of the counter.

The immediate area around the two was completely vacant. On the outer edges of the restaurant, stunned patients looked on, staring with mouths agape at the duo.

"This IS tasty," Kenpachi growled as he finished swallowing a burger before immediately starting on another.

"You there!" he said between bites, pointing at what appeared to be a terrified mass of blubber. "Come here!"

On closer inspection, it was, in fact, an extremely fat man wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He, like the other employees, wore a gold-colored nametag with his name and the word manager printed on the front. Squeaking, he slowly made his way forward. All eyes in the restaurant were on him as he meekly shuffled up to where Kenpachi and Yachiru were sitting.

"C…c…c…can I help you?" the man stammered.

"What's this made of?" Kenpachi asked between bites.

The man looked startled. "Oh, errr… it's made of beef."

"Beef?" Kenpachi asked, looking at the man.

"You know, cows."

"Yachiru," Kenpachi said. "What's a cow?"

"One of those things, I think," she said, pointing at an ice cream advertisement behind the counter that depicted two contented-looking cows in a pasture.

"I see. Anything else?" Kenpachi turned his gaze on the man, looking at him with his one un-obscured eye and affixing him with a baleful glare.

The man yelped. Stammering, he started rattling off a list of different ingredients.

About halfway through, Kenpachi growled and the man suddenly stopped talking.

"Is this written down anywhere?" he asked in a low voice.

The man squealed, nearly in tears. Desperately, he pointed at the piece of paper on one of the trays haphazardly stacked on the table.

Kenpachi picked it up and flipped it over, examining the small list of ingredients and ignoring the various health notes that indicated that in that one meal he'd eaten enough saturated fat to stop his heart ten times over.

Finishing the last of the burgers, Kenpachi rose to his feet.

"Yachiru! We're leaving!" he said.

Yachiru also stood and leapt easily onto Kenpachi's shoulder, where she almost immediately hit one of the spikes on his jacket.

"Owwww," she said. "I don't like this Ken-chan, you shouldn't wear it."

Kenpachi shrugged and started walking out of the restaurant. As he approached the door, he stopped suddenly.

"Oh yeah, we're supposed to pay for these things aren't we?" Fishing into his pockets, he withdrew a single copper coin, which he flicked onto the counter before stalking out of the restaurant.

The manager took one look at the coin before breaking down and bursting into tears.

_An hour later_

Yachiru and Kenpachi stood in a large field, once again in their shihakusho. Kenpachi's battered sword blade was held loosely over his right shoulder, and Yachiru was once again perched on his left.

"Those things?" Kenpachi asked, looking at the dull-looking creatures before him calmly chewing grass and occasionally mooing.

"Yep!" Yachiru said. "We need a lot of meat since there are going to be a lot of people there. Better kill them all."

"That sounds good," Kenpachi said, hefting his sword. "But they look really weak."

"Ken-chan!" Yachiru said admonishingly. "This isn't a fight! This is cooking!"

Kenpachi shrugged. "Whatever. Let's get this over with.

Extending his sword and holding it outward, parallel to the ground in his right hand, Kenpachi charged forward with blinding speed.

"Wheee!" Yachiru said as Kenpachi began cutting the cows down in an orgy of death and destruction too brutal and violent to be described in a (mostly) family-friendly retelling.

It was at this moment that the hapless farmer chose to walk out of his house, just in time to see his cows dying in glorious fountains of blood with no killer in sight and hear their terrified moos. His eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, the farmer performed an about-face with near-military precision and walked back inside, yelling at his wife to bring him as much bourbon as they had in the house.

Within minutes, the entire herd had been slaughtered. His haori covered in blood, Kenpachi started grabbing the dead animals by their legs and dragging them away.

"What next?" he asked.

"We need some fruits and vegetables," Yachiru said, reading the blood-soaked paper that they had taken from the restaurant. "Let me get them!"

Hopping down from Kenpachi's shoulder, Yachiru took off at a run, a cloud of dust kicking up behind her. Drawing her zanpakutou, she began "harvesting" just about every plant she could lay her hands on, slicing through stalks of wheat, corn, and whatever else she could get her hands on with reckless abandon.

It was at this moment that the farmer, now heartily fortified with alcohol, dared emerge from his house, fervently praying that he had been incorrect. At the sight of his cows lying dead in a large pile and his crops being harvested by a moving, six-foot cloud of dust, he started sobbing pitifully, before fainting dead away.

Giggling to herself from the fun of it all, Yachiru gathered the plants together in large bales.

"OK, I'm done. Let's go!"

Kenpachi grunted and hefted the pile of deceased cattle, as a shimmering gate emerged in front of them. Carrying the spoils of their plunder, they stepped through the door, black butterflies appearing where they stood as they vanished behind the gate.


	6. The Eigth Division

I'm so terrible about updating. Too many projects I suppose. Anyway.

Chapter 6: The Eight Division: Alcohol and its Necessary Flavor it Adds to the Cooking Environment

Captain Kyouraku Shunsui of the Eight Division of the Gotei Thirteen was drunk. Very drunk. EXISTENTIALLY drunk.

As he sat pondering the meaning of life, the matter of if a tree falls in the woods and the sound it makes, and the fact that he couldn't manage to properly refrain from staring at his sandals (and a darn impressive pair of sandals they were), he felt a sudden weight upon the back of his head. A concentrated, thick, ponderous weight that could only mean one thing.

"CAPTAIN!" Ise Nanao, Kyouraku's long-suffering vice-captain shouted. "The potluck is tonight and you haven't even decided on a dish yet?"

"Izzat you?" Kyouraku slurred. "Look! My shandals are awshome!"

Nanao sighed.

"Captain, it's twelve-thirty. Why on earth are you drunk already?"

"Sheemed a good idea at the time," Kyouraku said with a shrug.

"Come on, Captain," Nanao said impatiently. "I've already found a dish, but you need to help me! The rules say that the dish must be prepared by the Captain and Vice Captain as a team-building effort!"

"Oh, nobody listens to that anywaysh," Kyouraku said as he lurched to his feet, grasping his sake jug which was sadly lacking in weight. "OK, letsh get this over with," he said, slumping forward.

Nanao extended her arms to catch her captain, sighing exasperatedly.

As she dragged her Captain to the kitchen, she placed him next to the stove.

"Stand here, I'll prepare the ingredients," she said.

"Shure thing!" Kyouraku said brightly.

As Nanao let go, he wobbled back and forth for a few moments before pitching forward, his face hitting the ground with an impressive thud.

Indecision flickered on Nanao's face for several moments, before she sighed and went to gather the ingredients.

_One hour later_

Nanao bustled around the kitchen, almost happily. Occasionally, she would step on Kyouraku's prone and snoring body on her way to gather seasonings (she had at first been stepping over him but soon gave up as it was taking entirely too much time). She was making a modest dish, beef cooked in red wine with some extra seasonings to add a bit of spice. It would be tasty, and would look enough like gourmet food that she would feel she had done a service to herself, her division, and, most importantly, her captain.

Almost as if resurrected by her thoughts, Nanao turned around and beheld the most shockingly bizarre sight she had ever seen.

Kyouraku held either side of the pan with his bare hands. Red burns were growing rapidly on his palms as he slowly drained the wine out of the pan and into his mouth.

"CAPTAIN!" Nanao shouted, horrified.

"Just testing your dish, Nanao-chan," Kyouraku said happily, setting it back on the burner with an impish grin.

"Testing, why, you…" Nanao looked like she was about to explode, until she got a better look at his hand, which appeared to have skin peeling off of it. Her eyes widened in horror.

"You! Sit!" she said, pointing towards a table imperiously.

A bit taken aback, Kyouraku did as he was told with surprisingly little complaint while Nanao quickly poured a bit more of the wine out of the bottle into the pan and checked the oven temperature. Pursing her lips, she decided to go ahead and put the dish anyway to avoid another such occurrence.

Bustling over to Kyouraku with the first-aid kit, she removed a bottle of alcohol and poured it on Kyouraku's hands. Kyouraku yelped loudly.

"Nanao-chan!" he whined. "That hurt!"

"Serves you right!" she said viciously as she turned to grab some gauze. "Now hold still while I… WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

What Kyouraku was doing was taking a long pull from the bottle of alcohol she had used just moments ago to sterilize his wounds.

Removing the bottle from his lips, Kyouraku made a face.

"That didn't taste too good," he said.

Nanao seemed about to say something before she thought better of it and began firmly wrapping Kyouraku in gauze.

_Ten minutes later_

Nanao had just finished binding Kyouraku from head to toe in gauze when she happened to catch a whiff of the aroma leaving the kitchen. The aroma smelled a lot like… burning, for lack of a better term.

Swearing so violently that even Kyouraku gasped, Nanao rushed into the kitchen, hastily donning oven mitts and removed the meat from the oven. The meat was charred, still somewhat edible but definitely worse for wear.

Setting the meat on the now-cold burner, Nanao sank to her knees and began to cry bitterly, her sobs interrupted by what sounded like the first sounds of hyperventilation.

"There there," a calm voice said as warm and strong hands enveloped her.

Nanao turned her head to see Kyouraku embracing her from behind. Her sobs stopped immediately as her face turned beet red. She tried to say something but only a string of gibberish would emerge.

"It's still all right," Kyouraku said, standing. "It just needs to be fixed up a bit."

Nanao watched in awe as Kyouraku deftly sliced the burned parts off the meat and sliced the meat into thin scraps. Gathering some vegetables, he placed them all in a large pan and turned on the burner. Grabbing a pair of chopsticks, he began to stir the vegetables and the meat together, adding some oils and various seasonings as he went.

_Two hours later_

Nanao, now sitting in a chair by the counter, watched with rapt attention as Kyouraku put the finishing touches on the dish. He had produced several large fish seemingly out of nowhere and cooked them while he made a stir fry out of her meat and the vegetables he had produced. Taking the stir fry, he had actually seasoned the now-cooked fish with it, placing it around the fish to let their flavors blend.

Taking a large silver platter, Kyouraku carefully arranged the fish on it, moving the stir fry around in lovely patterns, so that it resembled a garnish. Bringing the lid, an ornate silver piece that completely enveloped the plate in an oval dome, he turned and smiled at Nanao.

"See? No problem at all."


	7. Third, Ninth, and Party Crasher

Chapter 7: 3rd Division, 9th Division and the Party Crasher: Sometimes pets must be sacrificed for the greater deliciousness.

Two figures walked through Junrinan, the first district of West Rukongai, both clad in the shinigami's shihakusho. Around both their arms was a band that held a wooden plate in place, and both carried their zanpakutou sheathed at their sides.

One was a slight, timid looking man with long blond hair that covered his face. The plate on his arm had three slashes, the middle slash bearing the shortest length and the bottom slash the longest. He walked with his shoulders hunched, and fairly heavy bags were easily visible under his eyes.

The other walked with far more confidence. He had shaggy dark hair and a sleeveless shihakusho. He was slender, yet lean and muscular. On the right side of his face was tattooed the number "69". A further tattoo around his neck was shaped like a band or a choker, with a box-like pattern that was also present on his left arm. He also had three vertical scars, as well as a bandage across his right cheek and the bridge of his nose. His plate had a vertical slash that curved to the left as it descended, as well as a horizontal slash that crossed it like a t, before dropping off on the right end into a hook.

"Hisagi-san," the blond whispered, almost fearfully. "Why are we here again?"

Hisagi rolled his eyes.

"I told you, we're going to have genuine Rukongai cuisine. That kind of requires us to go to Rukongai to get it." 

"But…" the blond stammered.

"Kira." Hisagi said slowly and deliberately. "This is Junrinan. The first Rukongai district. It's perfectly safe. Plus, it'll do you good to get out of your little noble shell every now and then. Come on."

"As you wish," Kira said with a resigned sigh. "Now, where are we going?"

"Well," Hisagi said. "If this were the 69th district, where I grew up, we'd go find a slum lord, beat him up, and take his food."

Kira's face visibly paled. Hisagi chuckled.

"However, since this is the 1st district, and I probably couldn't get you to go any further unless I clubbed you unconscious and dragged you," Hisagi said while Kira blanched. "This will have to do. We'll go to the market, there should be a good supply of…"

Hisagi trailed off as a large brown boar shot past him. The boar appeared to have a black Mohawk, a red ribbon tied to its back, and some kind of kanji written on its flank, although it was moving too fast for Hisagi to make it out.

"What was that!?" Kira nearly shrieked.

Hisagi didn't reply. He was watching the boar as it went.

"Er… Hisagi-san? Are you drooling?"

Hisagi shook his head and quickly wiped his mouth, for he had indeed been drooling.

"I think I found dinner!" he shouted. "Follow that boar!"

Kira barely had time to register his surprise before Hisagi shot forward like a bullet, his shunpo quickly closing the gap between him and the boar.

The boar skidded to a halt as Hisagi appeared in front of it.

Hisagi drew his zanpakutou, a vicious smile playing across his lips.

The boar snorted, and started running again, blasting Hisagi to the side as it gored him with its tusks.

"Are you all right, Hisagi-san?" Kira asked, appearing behind Hisagi to help him stand.

Hisagi quickly got to his feet, bruised but otherwise unharmed.

"Oh that little… it's on now!" he shouted as he took off after the boar. Kira sighed and ran after him.

As Hisagi chased it, he began incanting a spell, his hands moving in quick gestures.

"Ye Lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, The sea barrier surges, March on to the south! Hadou #31! Shakkahou!"

A ball of red energy burst from his palm and exploded at the boar's running feet. The surprised creature was flung into the air, and began to fall towards Kira, who had stopped just off to the side.

"Kira! Use your zanpakutou! Make it heavier so it can't run!"

"Ah… right!" Kira stammered. "Show your face… Wabisuke!"

Kira's zanpakutou seemed to warp as it took on the shape of a strange, hook-like blade. As the boar fell, Kira took a swing at it, opening a shallow gash on its side.

Unfortunately, Kira failed to move out of the way fast enough and the boar fell right on him. Kira's zanpakutou went flying as he fell to the ground, crying out in pain. The boar landed with its back on Kira's belly. It struggled to rise as Kira's zanpakutou fell in a graceful arc, bouncing off the boar's head.

Kira's groans of pain intensified almost immediately.

Hisagi appeared behind the boar, his zanpakutou still drawn.

"Ah…" Kira gasped. "Hisagi-san. I have… secured… the target."

Hisagi gave the boar a tentative push, yielding no results.

"I can see that," he said. "I think I'm going to have to cut him off you, hold still a minute."

Kira swallowed hard.

"Don't worry, this'll only take a second," he said, raising his zanpakutou above the frightened boar.

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" a bombastically loud voice shouted.

Hisagi turned just in time to meet the armpit of a rather smelly, unattractive man dressed in a black vest, brown shorts, and white bandanna with what appeared to be kissing lips emblazoned upon it. Hisagi fell back and tumbled a bit, before righting himself and sliding gracefully across the ground.

"BONNIE-CHAN!" the man screamed as he jumped onto the boar, embracing it. Kira groaned even more at the added weight.

"What have they done to you?"

Hisagi looked quizzically at the man.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, perplexed.

"Who am I!?" Ganju demanded. "I am Shiba Ganju!"

"Who?" Hisagi asked, looking at Kira.

"Hisagi-san…" Kira gasped. "The Shiba… were a… a powerful… noble family… a long… time… ago… augh!"

Bonnie-chan shifted on top of Kira, again struggling vainly to get up. In the process, it most likely crushed whichever of Kira's ribs were still intact.

"What I want to know," Ganju growled. "Is why a bunch of shinigami have entered MY turf?"

"We're looking for something to cook," Hisagi said with a shrug. "Your pig happened to make itself available."

"Find yourself another pig!" Ganju shouted. "I won't let you hurt my Bonnie-chan!"

Hisagi sighed. "Fine, it's more trouble than it's worth anyway. Kira, go ahead and reseal your zanpakutou," he said as he walked over, casually picked the fallen sword up and handed it to Kira.

Kira seemed to focus for a moment and the blade re-extended, once again only slightly curved. Bonnie-chan immediately stood and got off Kira, walking to Ganju's side. Kira breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly changed to a yelp of pain as he clutched his ribs.

"What do you shinigami need food here for?" Ganju asked. "Don't you have plenty of food in that fancy castle of yours?"

"We were looking to make something with a taste of Rukongai," Hisagi said. "There's this big potluck thing tonight and I wanted to make something a bit unique."

Ganju scoffed.

"What can some silver spoon-fed shinigami like you know about Rukongai cooking."

"I know enough," Hisagi said. "More than some weakling from Junrinan, anyway," he said with a smirk.

"You trying to pick a fight?" Ganju asked, pressing his face to Hisagi's.

In the next instant, Ganju was on the ground, his face pressed to the dirt.

"Not really," Hisagi said with a cheerful smile. "As you can see, it wouldn't be very fun."

Ganju growled slightly, before falling silent.

"So, what's this potluck thing for?" he asked conversationally, hoping Hisagi would let him up.

"Oh, it's a big yearly event the Captains and Vice-Captains all attend. This year we've got some guests from the human world."

"Humans?" Ganju asked. "That's odd. Why are they invited."

"They helped us with the Aizen thing," Hisagi said dismissively. "Of course, you probably haven't heard anything since you're in Ruk…"

"ICHIGO'S COMING!?" Ganju shouted, jumping to his feet and knocking Hisagi on his back.

"You KNOW Ichigo?" Hisagi shouted back, equally incredulous.

"Of course! I was with him when he broke into the Seireitei! My big sister helped!" he said proudly.

"Then why weren't you invited?" Hisagi asked curiously.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Ganju said furiously. Suddenly, his expression grew sly.

"Wait, I know!" he said. "I'll show you a great place to get food. In return, let me into the Seireitei!"

"Why… would… we do… that…?" Kira gasped.

"Because," Ganju said slyly. "I intend to crash this party!


End file.
